Haunted
by Basil's Angel of Music
Summary: Songfic based on and inspired by the song Haunted by Evanescence. Takes place during Gromit's imprisonment in A Close Shave. Rated M for extreme Gromit angst and one swear word.


I was listening to this song and a thought suddenly came to me: "That must've been how Gromit felt when he was locked up during A Close Shave.". I just_ had _to write it. Hope you like it. I own nothing. Wallace and Gromit belongs to Nick Park and Aardman Animations. Haunted belongs to Amy Lee, Evanescence and Wind-Up Records.

Key:-

_Memories/thoughts in the head_

_(Song lyrics)_

---

What was he doing here? How did he end up here? He asked himself those very questions over and over again since they put him in here, in this _dump_. He was completely innocent, bereft of any evil or corruption in his heart, and he knew it, but right now, he seemed to be the only one who did.

_Gromit, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers of the illegal and heinous rustling of livestock. I have, therefore, no recourse but to sentence you to imprisonment for the rest of you natural life._

That was what the judge said when Gromit was found guilty of a crime he did not commit. That scene kept playing over and over again in his head, the judge's voice ringing in his ears, like an alarm clock that was broken and wouldn't shut up. That sound was what brought him here. He wanted to convince them that he was innocent, but he knew that it was too late and they were already fooled into thinking otherwise, so the whole time, he just sat there in the dock like a mindless doll, listening to all the lies that were being said about him, not able to do anything about it. He was the only one who knew that they were lies, that he was innocent, that the _real_ culprit was the wool shop owner's dog, Preston.

_Preston. Preston! PRESTON!!!_

That's right! Wendolene's dog, Preston. It was all because of him that he was stuck in this mess.

_(Long lost words whisper slowly to me)_

_(Still can't find what keeps me here)_

_(When all this time I've been so hollow inside)_

_(I know you're still there)_

It just wasn't fair! He didn't deserve to be in this filthy cell! It was always so very dark in here. Normally, he didn't mind the dark. In fact, he _always _slept with the light off back home, but this darkness was completely different. It was the coldest, dampest darkness he ever felt, and it _wasn't _easy to sleep in it either. During the day, the only light he got was from the sunlight shining through the barred window, which showed him that the cell was very dirty and very wet. He hated that. His mattress wasn't the cleanest of mattresses either, nor was his wafer-thin bed cover. He also noticed a rat scuttling across the room a couple of times. That couldn't have been a good sign. It was always uncomfortably quiet as well. He didn't like that it was so quiet. An ominous silence he called it as it was the sound of his impending doom. The only sounds available to his ears were the traffic outside and the police guards' footsteps walking past his cell door now and then, the sinister clicking of their shoes against the cold, concrete floor. There was something about that sound that sent shivers down his spine. The air of the cell was also filled with the most putrid of smells. He couldn't make out what it was exactly, it was so awful, but it seemed to be mixture of things were all stale and decaying. And the air was so think with that smell, he found it difficult to breathe at times. He was always cold too. God, how he hated the cold. He wasn't even allowed a hot water bottle with him to keep him warm during the cold nights. The bed too, was always very damp and very cold. He had been cold and wet for so long, he had forgotten what dry warmth felt like. The worst thing was the food. Every now and then, someone would walk past his cell door, open the hatch at the bottom of the door and slide in a bowl of the most horrible tasting dog food, which he doubted was served with clean hands and was weeks past its sell-by date. And yet, he knew he had no choice but to accept it, as he only ever got this to eat a few times a date. It was all he was given and he was always very hungry. No, not hungry, starving! He wasn't even allowed to go up and ask for it when he needed. His stomach always rumbled so painfully inside him. He was surprised it hadn't digested itself by now, but it wouldn't be very long now before it did. And it's all because of that Preston that he had to spend the rest of this life, living in a filthy cell, sleeping in a filthy bed, breathing filthy air and eating filthy food, which would eventually lead him to developing a serious illness, which he knew he would not survive through as the doctors in the cell had rubbish training.

But it wasn't him who deserved all this. He didn't do _anything_. It was Preston who killed all those sheep. He made that discovery too late, as he only found it out while trying to rescue Shaun and the other sheep from him. Little did he know that Preston was laying a trap for him, so he could take him away and frame him for the sheep massacre, just so Preston would remain free and continue the rustling. That's why Preston was always stalking him and watching him, he was forming a plot against Gromit in his head and was making sure the beagle was in a vulnerable enough position for the plan to be carried out.

_(Watching me, wanting me)_

_(I can feel you pull me down)_

_(Fearing you, loving you)_

_(I won't let you pull me down)_

Every now and then, Gromit would look out through his window, scanning the streets to see if he could find Preston, but whenever his sensitive nose picked up the stench of sheep blood, he'd come away from the window and keep himself hidden, because even though he wanted to see where his enemy was, at the same time he was afraid to see him at all. But since he was put in here, all he could see in his mind was Preston, his enemy, his tormentor, his abuser, his _murderer_, knowing he roaming free out there, probably killing another sheep at this very moment, while poor Gromit was left to rot here in this dirty, disgusting, filthy, diseased cell.

_(Hunting you)_

_(I can smell you – alive)_

_(Your heart pounding in my head)_

Since the incident, every day of Gromit's life had been nothing but darkness, emptiness, misery, anger, fear and torment. It had become a living nightmare for him. He tried everything he could to get that bastard, Preston out of his mind, but to no avail. Even though he was alone, he still felt like Preston was lurking somewhere in the darkest depths of his mind, laughing at him everyday for being stuck here, watching him and making sure he would never get out, haunting his dreams, even while he was awake. Even though he wasn't physically being tortured or molested, he felt like he was. He had been so depressed and traumatised for so long. If only he had something with him to put himself out of his misery, put an end to his suffering once and for all. He thought he might as well be dead because to him, this wasn't a prison, it was an indoor graveyard and he had been buried alive in an early tomb.

_(Watching me, wanting me)_

_(I can feel you pull me down)_

_(Saving me, raping me, watching me)_

The only possessions of his he had were his alarm clock and his book, _Crime and Punishment_ by Fido Dogstoyevsky. The book was the only thing he had that preserved his sanity, which was slowly but surely fading away. He read a chapter or so of it every night to try and take his mind off of what had happened. One night, when he was reading it, the hatch opened and a bowl of that revolting dog food was pushed into the cell. Gromit looked up from his book to see what it was and when he did, he just went back to his book, thinking it was best to put it off for as long as possible. Surprisingly he wasn't that hungry either. However, about a couple of seconds later, a parcel was also pushed into the cell and the hatch closed with a loud _bang! _which echoed through the dark corridor outside. This got Gromit's attention and this time, he put his book down, went over to the parcel, picked it up, took it over to his desk and opened it. His heart leapt when he saw what it was. It was a jigsaw puzzle with a picture of sheep on the box. Sheep!? They were the reason he was stuck here. But instead of feeling anger towards them, tears began streaming from his eyes and down his face and he burst into helpless sobs, which was quite a relief for him actually as he had been bottling it up for days and now, he finally let it go. He buried his face in his paws and banged his fist against the box as he cried.

About five minutes later, Gromit had already solved the puzzle without even looking at it. That was how good he was at solving puzzles. His sobs had died down completely but his face was still wet with tears. When he had finished, something extremely alarming caught his eye. His eyes widened with surprise and he was roused from the dark, depressing abyss of his mind as he looked at the sign printed in red block capitals on the puzzle:

FRIDAY NIGHT

8pm

BE READY.

A FRIEND

What did this mean? Was this a message from Preston? Was he going to come and kill him? Or was it the night of his execution which had been kept secret from him?

_Oh, God!_

His heart began beating faster and faster as he looked at the calendar on the wall in front of him. It said, "Friday 17th"! He then looked at his clock. 8 o'clock! Oh God, any minute now! But until what?

Just then, he saw something white appear suddenly at his window. He turned to the window to see Shaun's face peering through the bars. What was _he _doing here? As if answering his mental question, the little sheep began cutting the bars away with an angle grinder. Gromit simply watched his friend's actions as he realised he was helping him escape. When the bars were completely gone, he automatically ran up to the window and climbed out of it, holding onto Shaun for support. When he was outside the building at long last, he felt himself coming back from the dead.

_(Watching me, wanting me)_

_(I can feel you pull me down)_

_(Fearing you, loving you)_

_(I won't let you pull me down)_

_---_

There you have it, my first songfic. Hope you liked it. Please review and tell me what you think.


End file.
